Майн Рид
The White Gauntlet
As he gave utterance to this fell menace, he threw the axe over his shoulder; sprang across the broken palings; and strode off among the trees – once more muttering as he went: “I’ll keep my threet, if I ha’ to swing for it!”
For some minutes the door of the cottage remained closed. It was also barred inside: for the girl had been a good deal frightened, and feared the fellow’s return. The wild look that had gleamed from under his white eyebrows would have caused fear within the bosom of any woman; and it had even terrified the heart of Bet Dancey.
On barring the door, she glided up to one of the windows and watched. She saw him take his departure from the place.
“He is gone, and I am glad of it for two reasons,” soliloquised she. “What a wicked wretch! I always thought so. And yet my father wants me to marry that man! Never – never! I shall tell father what he has said. Maybe that may change him.
“Heigho! I fear he is not coming to-day! and when shall I see him again? There’s to be another fête at Michaelmas; but that’s a long time; and its such a chance meeting him on the road – where one mayn’t speak to him, perhaps. Oh! if I could think of some errand to Stone Dean! I wish father would send me oftener. Ah me! what’s the use? Muster Holtspur’s too grand to think of a poor peasant girl. Marry me he could not, perhaps he would not. – I don’t want that, if he’d only love me!”
The lurcher, that had kept silent during the stormy interview between Bet and her rustic admirer, now broke out in a fresh bravura of baying.
“Is it Will again?” cried the girl, gliding back to the window and looking out. “No, it can’t be him: the dog looks the other way. It’s either father coming back, or – ’Tis he! ’tis he!
“What am I to do? I must open the door. If he sees it shut he may not think of coming in; I wish him to come in!”
As she said this, she glided up to the doorway, and pushing back the bar, gently drew open the door.
She did not show herself in the entrance. A quick instinct hindered her. Were she to do so, the visitor might simply make an inquiry; and, being answered that her father was not at home, might turn back or pass on. This would not suit her purpose: since she wished him to come in.
He was afoot. That augured well. She watched him through the window as he drew near. She watched him with a throbbing bosom.
Volume Two – Chapter Seven
Richard Scarthe, Captain of the King’s Cuirassiers, and confidant of the Queen, was seated in his apartment in the mansion of Sir Marmaduke Wade.
A small table stood within reach of his hand, on which was a decanter containing wine, and a silver goblet. He had thrice filled the latter and thrice drained its contents, to the last drop. But the intoxicating fluid, even thus liberally imbibed, had failed to give solace to the chagrin with which his spirit was affected.
It was now the third day of his residence under the roof of Sir Marmaduke Wade; and he had made scarce any progress in the programme he had sketched out – of ingratiating himself with the knight and his family.
On the part of these a rigorous etiquette continued to be kept up; and it appeared probable that, beyond what necessity demanded of them, only the slightest intercourse might ever occur between them and their uninvited guests.
Of these circumstances, however, the soldier made not much account. He might expect in time to smooth over the unpleasant occurrences that had inaugurated his introduction. He knew himself to have a tongue that could wheedle with the devil; and with this he hoped, at no distant day, to remove the hostile impression, and establish an intimacy – if not altogether friendly – that would at least give him the opportunities he desired. Indeed, he even flattered himself that he had already made some progress in this direction; and it was not that was causing the extreme acerbity of spirit, he now strove to soothe with copious libations from the wine cup.
His chagrin sprang from a different cause. What at first was only a suspicion, had now become almost a certainty: that he was forestalled in the affections of a beautiful woman, whom he already loved with an indescribable ardour; forestalled, and by the very man who, in her eyes, had so horribly humiliated him!
Notwithstanding this belief he had not abandoned hope. Richard Scarthe was a courtier, of too much confidence in his own prowess, to yield easily to despair. He had succeeded oft before in the estrangement of hearts, already prepossessed; and why should he not again?
As the wine mounted to his brain, his mind began to contend against the conviction with which his late act of espionage had so unhappily supplied him. The evidence of the glove was, after all, inconclusive. The one he had picked up was no doubt the glove of Marion Wade; but what reason was there for believing that it was its fellow he had seen in the hat of Henry Holtspur? A glove of white doeskin leather was a fashion of the time – so, too, the gold and lace ornaments upon the gauntlet. The daughter of Sir Marmaduke Wade was not the only lady who wore white gloves. Why should it be hers?
Every reason had he to arrive at the contrary conclusion. He had ascertained that his antagonist was a stranger to the family; introduced to Marion scarce an hour before the combat: and not speaking to her afterwards.
Thus in his own mind would Scarthe have disposed of the circumstance of the two gloves, deeming it an accidental coincidence.
But then there was the interview in the park – that interview of which he had been a witness. Could it have been accidental? Or for some other purpose than that of a love meeting?
There was but little probability in these conjectures. For all that the jealous Scarthe, under the influence of the wine, earnestly indulged in them, until he began to feel a sort of hope of their being true. It was but for a moment – short and evanescent – and again did his mind relapse into a doubting condition.
Henry Holtspur had, by this time, become the bête noire of his existence – against whom his bitterest hostility was henceforth to be directed. He had already taken some steps to inform himself of the position and character of his rival; but in this he had met with only slight success. A mystery surrounded the movements of the black horseman; and all that Scarthe could learn in relation to him was: that he was a gentleman of independent means, who had lately taken up his residence in the neighbourhood – his domicile being an old mansion known by the quaint appellation of “Stone Dean.”
Scarthe ascertained, also, that Holtspur was a stranger to most, if not all, the distinguished families of the neighbourhood; though it was believed that he associated with others at a greater distance; and that he had hitherto stood aloof from those near him, not from any want of the opportunity of being introduced, but rather from the absence, on his part, of the inclination.
It was rumoured that he had spent a portion of his life in the colonies of America; and the fact that he was occasionally seen accompanied by a young Indian, in the capacity of body-servant, gave confirmation to the rumour.
Scarthe had learnt nothing more in relation to his conqueror – excepting that two men of the neighbourhood were occasionally employed by him in matters of service. These were a woodman of the name of Dancey, and another of the like ilk – a younger man, called Walford.
The cuirassier captain had not taken the trouble to collect this information without some glimmering of a design; though, as yet, he saw not very clearly in what way he could benefit by the knowledge. In fact, Captain Scarthe had never in his life felt more powerless, to rid himself of a rival who had so rudely crossed his path.
To challenge his late antagonist, and fight him again, was not to be thought of – after such a termination to the first combat. The life of Scarthe had been conceded to him; and the laws of honour would have precluded him from seeking a second affair – had he been so inclined. But the touch of the cavalier’s steel had taught him its sharp quality; and he had not the slightest inclination to tempt it again. Though yearning fiercely for vengeance, he had no thought of seeking it in that way; and in what fashion he was to find it, he had as yet conceived no distinct idea.
The séance with his own thoughts had been protracted for more than an hour; and the cloud that still sate upon his brooding brow betokened that it had been unsuccessful. The wine, quaffed spasmodically, had been quaffed in vain. His vengeance, even so stimulated, had failed to suggest a scheme for its satisfaction.
At length an idea seemed to occur to him, that called for the presence of some second personage. He rose to his feet; and, striding to the door, passed rapidly out of the room.
In a few seconds he re-entered, followed by one of his troopers – a young fellow, whose countenance might have appeared pleasing enough, but for an expression of softness, almost silliness, that marked it.
“Well, Withers?” inquired the officer, as soon as the two had got fairly within the room, “have you seen the two woodmen?”
“Only one, captain. The old one, Dancey, han’t come home yet; but his daughter said she was expectin’ him the night.”
“And the other?”
“Wull Walford. Yes, captain, I seen him; and delivered your message.”
“Well; he’s coming to see me, is he not?”
“I’m afeard not, captain.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a queery sort, is Wull Walford. I knew him ’fore I left the county to list in the troops. He’s a ill-tempered cur; that’s what he is.”
“But why should he show temper with me? He don’t know, but that I may intend kindness to him?”
“After what’s happened he’s afeard to see you, captain. That’s why I think he won’t come.”
“After what’s happened! And what has happened? You mystify me, my man!”
“I mean, captain, the little affair as occurred between you and him – in the old camp over there.”
“Between me, and him? Who are you talking of, Withers? Not the ‘black horseman,’ as the rustics call this – ”
“No, captain; Wull Walford, I mean.”
“And pray what has occurred between Master Wull Walford and myself? I remember no individual of the name.”
“You remember Robin Hood, captain – he as had the audacity to strike at your honour with his bow?”
“O-o-h! that’s the difficulty, is it. So-so – ” continued Scarthe, in a half-soliloquy. “Wull Walford of Wapsey’s Wood, and the bold outlaw of Sherwood Forest, are identical individuals, are they? No wonder the fellow has some scruples about seeing me again. Ha! ha! I dare say I shall be able to overcome them. A crown or two will no doubt suffice to satisfy Master Walford, for what he may have considered a slight to his sweetheart; and, as to the blow over my own crown, I can the more easily pardon that, since I believe he broke the stock of his weapon in dealing it. So, Robin Hood it is. Well! if I’m not mistaken, he and I may be fast friends yet. At all events, from what I observed on that occasion, he is not likely to be on the friendliest terms with my enemy. Withers!”
“Captain!” said the trooper, making a fresh salute to his officer, as if in the expectation of receiving some order.
“I shall want you to guide me to the domicile of this Walford. I suppose he has a house somewhere; or does he, like his prototype, roam anywhere and everywhere, and sleep under the shadow of the greenwood tree?”
“He lives in a poor sort o’ cottage, captain – not very far from that of Dick Dancey.”
“Then we may visit both at once; and, as the older woodman is expected to return home to-night, I shall not go until to-morrow. How far is it to this Wapsey’s Wood?”
“Scant two miles, captain. It’s up the road in the direction of Beaconsfield.”
“Enough. I shall go on horseback. After morning parade, see that you have the grey horse saddled, and your own as well. Now, be off to your quarters, and say nothing to any of your comrades what duty you are going on – nor to any of your country acquaintances neither – else you may get yourself in trouble. Go!”
The trooper, making a salute, expressive of assent to the caution thus delivered, betook himself from the presence of his commanding officer.
“He’s but a silly fellow, this Withers,” muttered the latter, as the soldier had gone out of hearing. “Not the man for my purpose. His knowledge of the neighbourhood – the only one of my vagabonds who has ever been in it before – makes it a necessity to employ him in this matter. Perhaps in Wull Walford I may find a more intelligent aide-de-camp. Nous verrons!”
And with this conjectural reflection, Scarthe threw himself back in his chair; and once more gave way to the gloomy surmises that had already tormented his unhappy mind.
Again did they torment him as before; and it was a relief to him when the door once more turned upon its hinges, and his subaltern stepped into the room.
Not that Stubbs had any cheering news to communicate; nor was there just then anything encouraging in his countenance. On the contrary, the cornet looked but little less lugubrious than his captain; and he had been in that mood ever since morning.
Lora Lovelace would scarce condescend to exchange a word with him; and when by chance he had twice or thrice been thrown into her company, it was only to find himself the subject of a slight or a satire, and the next moment to receive the cold shoulder. All this, too, so delicately done, that Stubbs could find no opportunity for retaliation; unless by allowing licence to his vulgar spite, which Scarthe had cautioned him against. In fact, the cornet felt that the young lady, on more than one occasion, had made a butt of him – he did, by Ged!
He had, at an earlier hour, communicated to his captain the ill success of his wooing; but the latter was too much absorbed in his own schemes, to offer him either advice or assistance.
The entrance of his subaltern turned the thoughts of Scarthe into a new channel – as testified by his speech.
“So, then, there’s no one arrived from London yet?” he said, interrogatively, as he saw the cornet proceeding to seat himself.
A simple negative was the reply.
“’Tis very odd that the message – whatever it was – has not been delivered in duplicate before this time?”
“Very odd! – ’tis, by Ged!”
“I shouldn’t wonder if the fellow, frightened as he was by those precious footpads, has taken leave of his senses altogether; and, instead of carrying back my letter, has climbed into a tree, and hanged himself thereon!”
“Like enough, by Ged!”
“Had I only slipped in a postscript, giving the king a hint about the character of the rascals to whom his courier so tamely surrendered, perhaps the best thing he could have done would have been to string himself up. I haven’t the slightest doubt about its being the band of scarecrows that stopped the son of Sir Marmaduke. Of course, it must have been: since it was on the same night, and in the same spot. Ha! ha! ha! In all my campaigns I never heard of a more clever bit of strategy! Ha! ha! ha!”
“Nor I,” said Stubbs, joining in the laugh.
“I’d give a month’s pay to get hold of the comical villain that planned it. If he felt inclined to join our cuirassiers, I’d make a corporal of him, without asking a question.”
“He’d make a first-rater. He would, by Ged!”
“I should like, also, to get hold of him for another reason,” continued Scarthe, changing to a more serious tone. “We might recover the lost despatches – which, no doubt, are still in the doublet he stripped from the chicken-hearted courier. Ha! ha! ha! What a pickle we found him in! A pigeon completely plucked and trussed! Oh! how the queen will laugh when she reads my report to her. I hope she won’t tell it to the king. If she do blab, it’ll be no laughing matter for the poor devil of a messenger!”
“It won’t, by Ged!”
“Particularly if the despatches contained anything of importance. I wonder what they were about – sent so soon after us! Hope it wasn’t a countermand.”
“By Ged! I hope not.”
“I’m not tired of our country quarters just yet: and won’t be, till I’ve tried them a little longer. Rather icy these girls are, Stubbs? Don’t repine, lad. Perhaps they’ll thaw, by and by.”
“I hope so,” said Stubbs, his stolid face brightening up at the idea. “If it wasn’t for that young sop of a cousin ’twould be all right. I believe it would, by Ged!”
“Pooh! pooh! Don’t make your mind uneasy about him. It appears to be only kittenly affection that’s between them. He’s just come home, after a three years’ absence from her apron-string; and it’s natural she should like to play with him a bit. Only as a toy, Stubbs. She’ll soon tire of him, and want another. Then will be your turn, my killing cornet.”
“Do you think so, captain?”
“Think so! Sure of it. Ha! if it were my game, I shouldn’t want an easier to play. Mine’s a different affair – very different. It will require all the skill of – of Captain Scarthe to win in that quarter. Ho! Who’s there? Come in!”
The interrogatory had been called forth by a knock heard outside. At the command to enter, the door was opened, showing a cuirassier standing upon the stoop, with his hand raised to his helmet.
“Your business, sergeant?” demanded the captain.
“A messenger has arrived, escorted by three files of dragoniers.”
“Whence?”
“From London.”
“Show him in; and see that his escort are taken care of outside.”
The sergeant disappeared to execute the order.
“This should be the bearer of the duplicate despatch?” said Scarthe conjecturally; “and, if it contains a countermand, I hope it has been also lost.”
“I doubt it,” rejoined the cornet; “the three files of dragoniers ought to have been a match for the dozen dummies!” and, as Stubbs said this, he smiled conceitedly at the pretty speech he had perpetrated.
The courier came in – a cavalier by his costume and bearing; but of a type very different from the one rifled by the robber. He was a grizzled old veteran, armed from the toes to the teeth; and his steel-grey eye, shining sagely through the bars of his helmet, betokened a character not likely to have been duped by Gregory Garth and his scarecrows. Had this individual been bearer of the original despatch, instead of the copy, in all likelihood the repentant footpad would have committed no other crime on that memorable night; and would have been saved the sin of breaking the promise he had made to his master.
“A courier from the king?” said Scarthe, bowing courteously as the cavalier came forward.
“A despatch from his Majesty,” returned the messenger, with an official salute, at the same time holding out the document. “It is the copy of one sent three days ago, and lost upon the road. Captain Scarthe, I believe, is already acquainted with the circumstance.”
A slight twinkling in the steel-grey eye of the speaker, while making the concluding remark, told that he had heard of the adventure, and was not insensible to its ludicrous nature.
“Oh, yes!” assented Scarthe. “I hope the bearer of the original has not come to grief through his misadventure.”
“Dismissed the service,” was the formal rejoinder.
“Ah! I am sorry for that. The fright he had was I should think punishment enough; to say nothing of the loss of his horse, purse, watch, and love locket. Ha! ha! ha!”
The hearty laugh in which the captain indulged, chorused by Stubbs, sanctioned only by a grim smile on the part of grey eye, told that the sympathy of the latter for the disgraced courtier was not very profound.
“Cornet Stubbs,” said Scarthe, turning to his subaltern, and waving his hand towards the messenger, “see that this gentleman does not die of hunger and thirst. Excuse me, sir, while I peruse the king’s despatch. Perhaps it requires an answer.”
The comet, inviting the courier to follow him, passed out of the room; while Scarthe, stepping into the embayment of the window, broke open the royal seal, and read:
“His Majestie the King to Captain Scarthe, commanding ye Cuirassiers in the County of Bucks.
“In addition to ye orders already given, Captain Scarthe is hereby commanded to raise by recruit in ye county of Bucks as many men as may be disposed to take service in his Maiestie’s regiment of cuirassiers; and he is by these same presents empowered with ye king’s authority to offer to each and every recruit a bounty as prescribed in if accompanying schedule.
“Furthermore, it having come to ye ear of his Majestie, that divers disloyal citizens of said shire of Bucks have of late shown symptoms of disaffection to his Majestie’s Government, in the holding of secret meetings, and divers other and like unlawful acts, and by speeches containing rebellious doctrines against his Majesty’s Government, and person as likewise against the well-being of ye state and ye church; therefore, his Majestie do command his loyal and trusted servant, ye Captain Scarthe aforesaid, to search, discover, and take cognisance of all such dissentious persons; and if he find good and substantial proof of their disloyalty, then is he hereby enjoined and commanded to communicate ye same to ye Secretary of his Majestie’s Council of State, in order that such rebellious subjects be brought to trial before ye Star Chamber, or ye High Commission Court, or such other court or courts as may conform to the nature of their offence and punishment.
“Given at our palace of Whitehall.
“Signed Carolus Rex.”
“Pish!” exclaimed Scarthe, as he concluded reading the despatch. “That’s a pretty duty to put me on! Making a spy of me! The king forgets that I am a gentleman!”
“I shall obey the first command readily enough. My troop wants recruiting; and I suppose, along with the increased numbers, I may get that colonelcy I ought to have had long ago. As to my eavesdropping about inns, and listening for every silly speech that Jack makes to Jem, and Jem repeats to Colin – with the usual embellishments of the rural fancy – I’ll do nothing of the sort; – unless,” added he, with a significant smile, “unless the queen commands me. To gratify her sweet grace, I’ll turn potboy, and wait upon the gossips of the tap. Ho! what’s this? – more writing; – a postscript! Perhaps, as in the letters of ladies, the most important part of the epistle?”
“Since writing the above dispatch, his Majesty hath been further informed that one of his Majestie’s subjects – by name Holtspur – and bearing the Christian name of Henry, hath more than any other been of great zeal in promoting the subversive doctrines aforementioned; and it is believed that the said Holtspur is an active instrument and coadjutor among the enemies of his Majesties government. Therefore Captain Scarthe is directed and enjoined to watch the goings and comings of ye said Holtspur, and if anything do appear in his conduct that may be deemed sufficient for a charge before ye Star Chamber, then is Captain Scarthe directed to proceed against and arrest the said individual. His Majestie in ye matter in question will trust to the discretion of Captain Scarthe to do nothing on slight grounds, – lest the arrest of a subject of his Majesty, who might afterwards be proven innocent, bring scandal on ye name and government of his Majestie.
“C.R.”
“Spy!” exclaimed Scarthe, starting to his feet as he finished reading the postscript, “Spy, you say? I thank you for the office. Fear me not, kind king! I’ll play the part to perfection.
“Did I not say so?” he continued, striding to and fro across the floor, and waving the paper triumphantly over his head. “The women are wise. They keep their best bit for the last. Henceforth of a letter give me the postscript!
“So, Master Henry Holtspur, I thought there was something not sound about you – ever since you drank that toast to taunt me. Aha! If I don’t have you on the hip – as Will Shakespeare says – then I’m not Dick Scarthe, captain of the king’s cuirassiers!
“Stay! I must go gently about this business – gently and cautiously. The king counsels it so. No fear for my rashness. I know when to be stormy, and when to be tranquil. Proofs are required. That won’t be difficult, I ween – where a red rebel stands before the bar. I’ll find proofs. Never fear, your Majesty. I’ll find, or frame them – proofs that will satisfy that scrupulous tribunal – the Star Chamber! ha! ha! ha!”
And, as he gave utterance to the satirical laugh, he passed rapidly out of the room – as if starting off in search of those proofs he so confidently expected to obtain.
